Opposite Ends
by snitchesgetstitchesbitches
Summary: "laws of attraction is a catch phrase used when discussing the perceived nature of bodies that have a tendency to attract, thus contradicting itself as a physics law which serve to define specific properties and can be proven with experiment to be a constant. " Or also known as that Genderbend! AU
1. Opposite Ends

**Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING GUYS, THIS IS JUST A WORK OF FICTION!**

 **PAIRINGS: CAULSCOTT**

 **WARNINGS: GENDERBENT CHARACTERS AND SWEARING**

* * *

 **Opposite Ends**

* * *

 _ **laws of attraction**_ _is a catch phrase used when discussing the perceived nature of bodies that have a tendency to attract, thus contradicting itself as a physics law which serve to define specific properties and can be proven with experiment to be a constant._

* * *

The first time you see Nathalie Prescott, your heart does a funny summersault in your ribcage.

It's what normal people would call love at first sight.

Except it's not.

You refuse to admit you felt something for her then. You refuse to admit you feel something for her now. So you call it 'smitten'.

You were smitten at first sight.

At that moment you had been talking to Wanda. About what, you don't remember anymore. All you knew is that your new friend was not subtly trying to flirt with you and you felt a little awkward, a little guilty. Wanda was a nice girl, even better as a friend but the thing is, that's all she would ever be.

You didn't want to hurt her feelings; you were just… not interested.

Wanda Graham was not what you were looking for.

Her big brown eyes were intently staring at you as she spoke when something over your shoulder caught her attention, making her stop mid sentence. Her expression turned sour, lips pursed, eyes narrowed.

You remember asking her what was wrong.

You remember her muttering something about 'having to deal with unpleasant little shits this early in the morning"

You remember furrowing your brow, moving your head in order to see what had your normally chill friend so riled up.

You remember your breath being knocked out of your chest metaphorically and literally.

Eyes wide as saucers, you watched the prettiest girl you had ever seen in your eighteen years of life cruising down the hallway looking every bit of pissed as she was beautiful.

A scowl was deeply set on her gentle features, long shiny brown hair moving along with her every step. The girl was wearing a red letterman jacket over a white blouse and a plaid pink skirt that ended mid thigh. Black thights and black designer boots covered her long legs that seemed to go on for miles. You briefly wondered how she could stand all those layers of clothing with the current heat while trying-and failing- to ignore how despite that you could still make out the shape of her curvy figure.

Nathalie Prescott was every boy's wet dream brought to life. Standing right there in the flesh. And just like every wet dream she was just as unattainable. With her expensive clothes, the apparently confident stride she had as if she owned Blackwell, the cold expression… To dub her as the resident Ice Queen would be an understatement.

She was the popular girl.

You were the loser hipster boy.

Those were the first words that registered your mind on your first encounter, ignorant of the fact that with time, those would not be the only factors separating you and Nathalie; that standing on different ends of the social ladder would be the least aggravating of them. That it certainly would be the least of your problems.

In that instant you didn't know that.

You hadn't even noticed you were still gaping at her acting like a meathead and totally out of character-probably looking pretty brain dead too-until she suddenly stopped in her tracks.

There were a million other people in that hallway, others more interesting than you.

Among the chaos, she somehow noticed you.

Dumbfounded, you wondered why she would-

Blue misty eyes zeroed in on yours.

That was when the illusion was shattered.

Because while she initially came off as cold and calculating, looking into her eyes during that moment you could see it. Glazed glaring irises, staring but not quite staring. Lost, hazed. Raw anger. Raw feeling.

Insane was the word your mind provided to describe what she looked like.

It chilled you to the bones.

The knowledge that the Ice Queen you first thought about did not exist.

It was just a front.

When you actually took a moment to actually analyze her, it was so obvious.

She was unstable.

It only took you that fraction of a second to know that Nathalie Prescott was trouble.

You blinked, swallowing, Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

The scowling eyes flew to your throat, following the movement. You didn't have time to wonder what the fuck was going on before her eyes quickly returned to your face, a sneer transforming her face into a horrible mask.

Face alight with disgust and rage she spat at you _"The FUCK are you looking at, bitch?!"_

You wanted to say so many things right then.

You couldn't even slip a reply past your lips.

The girl kept on walking and with the way she reacted you shouldn't have been surprised when she bumped shoulders with you, sending you crashing into the lockers behind you.

She chuckled unattractively, amused at your expense and went on her merry way.

You rubbed your shoulder, trying to make sense of what just happened and WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK WAS HER PROBLEM.

Okay, maybe you had been staring but that was just a slippage of sanity! She didn't have to stop in the middle of the bloody hallway to glare right back at you.

You shook your head. So early in the year and you already were making enemies.

" _Charming isn't she?"_ Wanda's voice broke you out of your reverie.

You had completely forgotten about her.

" _Gee, if you think pushing people against lockers is charming_ " you grimaced _"Who was she, anyway? What crawled up her ass and died?"_

" _That was Nathalie Prescott. She thinks she's hot shit just because her mommy practically owns Arcadia Bay"_

The mention of the infamous surname made you immediately frown. You should have guessed.

" _She literally can't stand anyone unless you're in the Vortex Club. To be honest, I think her only friend is Victor"_ continued Wanda without missing a beat.

" _They do say feathers of the same bird flock together"_

Well if they were buddies that would certainly explain lots of things.

To even think that for even one second you were kind of struck by her.

" _What a shame-"_ you cut your own sentence. You were about to say something really stupid.

You glanced nervously at Wanda, hoping she hadn't noticed.

Brown sad eyes were studying your face cautiously.

She had noticed.

Just like she had noticed the way you stared at Nathalie before.

Your friend bit her lip, nodding to herself _"She's really pretty, huh?"_

You felt your cheeks burn in embarrassment. You wanted to apologize for being a jerk. You wanted to say you were sorry. You wanted to excuse yourself.

You did none of those things.

" _Yes, she is"_ you said instead, a little sad, a little guilty.

Wanda Graham could've been the girl of your dreams.

Sadly, she wasn't.

 _What a shame someone like her has to be so gorgeous._

The sentence that was never said out loud…

That was your first encounter with the troubled Prescott.

* * *

You stared in disbelief at the crumpled piece of paper in your hand, clearly torn from a notebook.

You had been staring at it for the last ten minutes.

You still couldn't figure out the meaning of it.

Or maybe you just didn't want to.

All over the page, in incredibly messy scrawling, was written one word over and over: _Freckles._

You read it again, to be sure and yes, it was definitely _freckles._

Shaking your head, you turned the paper in your hand to see if there was something on the back too.

There were two sentences.

 _Freckles are fucking gross._

That was the first one.

The second one was crossed out.

 _Freckles are fucking cute._

Alright, you thought, alright.

Perfectly normal.

As far as you were concerned, out of all the students in Blackwell Academy you were the only one with actual freckles.

You didn't know how you felt, then.

Because that paper was thrown away-quite rudely and on the floor-by a certain crazed girl two hours ago and you, being a responsible, caring member of society had, of course, grabbed it.

To your credit your original intention had been to put the trash in its rightful place. If somewhere along the way the goal had changed, well, it wasn't your fault. Blame your curiosity.

Your out of place curiosity for dangerous things.

This ended up leading to you, confused and at a loss of rational thoughts, staring blankly at a note you were never supposed to find.

Your hands were sweaty.

In your head, you made a list of the pros and cons of what you were planning to do.

With a sudden rush of recklessness you grabbed a pen and started to write a reply under the crossed line, hands shaking, and heart beating loudly.

The next day, you casually left the piece of paper in front of _her_ locker.

Many of your friends kept pointing out throughout the entire day that Nathalie Prescott was giving you creepy glares.

You told them they were imagining things.

* * *

She backed you up against a wall.

Glancing around nervously you noticed how conveniently there was not a single soul in sight.

Just your luck.

You were fighting. Again.

Somehow the both of you had made a habit out of discussing over petty things. You had no idea how it started, you only knew Nathalie had a penchant of stirring fights with you on a daily basis, ever since the moment you had replied to her comments on that stupid note.

You regretted it.

Now, here you were in the worst possible scenario with no one around to save you, Nathalie's sneering face right in your personal space, adding the fact that you were not exactly the tallest guy and she had to be wearing fucking boots. You were breathing the same air and that was not okay.

You bit your lip like you always did whenever you were nervous, trying to think of ways to escape. Nathalie's blue stormy orbs fell to a zone that was definitely not where your eyes were and that was when it happened.

You didn't have time to do absolutely nothing when out of nowhere her mouth crashed violently against yours swallowing any protest. You completely froze on the spot, staring wide eyed at her closed eyes and furrowed brow as she pressed harder. Her lips were soft but demanding and rough at the same time. For some fucked up reason that turned you on.

A tongue traced your bottom lip and you were still frozen, unable to do anything but freak out, wondering how on earth this could be happening. Nathalie got impatient and just as rough as her kiss, she bit you. A gasp escaped you along with your breath. It fucking hurt.

 _Holy fuck._

Taking advantage of the slip, she pushed her tongue past your lips, mapping every corner of your mouth and you finally snapped out of the stupor you were stuck in. You closed your eyes, getting your body and limbs to react, kissing her back with a passion you never knew you had. Hands settled on Nathalie's slim waist. You felt fingers entangling in your hair. Groans and moans filled the air as your tongues danced with each other.

It was messy, spontaneous and everything you had ever thought you wanted in life.

Until it was not.

It ended just as quick as it started.

Your hands dug in maybe a bit too tightly and Nathalie immediately tensed up, all movement ceasing. The next thing you knew, you were being slapped hard across the face. Your eyes burnt with unshed tears, your left cheek throbbed.

Confused, you reached up a trembling hand, touching the abused skin.

Then you felt it. The scorching anger bubbling up to the surface, you turned murderous blue eyes to glare at the unpredictable girl. In your confused trance you hadn't noticed she had moved, now standing a few feet away from you. Her hands curled in fists, she was staring at you in something akin to horror, as if she couldn't believe what had happened. But that only lasted a second for her expression went back to her default pissed off face quickly.

You didn't care. You were so tired of dealing with her shit and her constant mood swings.

She hissed at you, all crude words, totally not cute and whatever crap you were thinking while you kissed.

You yelled at her, venting all your contained emotions, still reeling at that goddamned lame excuse of a kiss.

She yelled right back and you hated her so much in that moment.

Frustration and irritation were taking a toll on you.

When the sound of slapping overlapped the screaming you two were doing, you didn't know what had caused it.

The palm of your hand stung.

Nathalie's mouth was hanging open and you would have laughed if it hadn't been for the reddening handprint on her right cheek that matched yours.

You didn't have much time to dwell on what you had done out of spite, since the girl's surprise didn't last long.

She scratched you, blunt nails clawing at the same place her hand had been a couple of minutes ago.

This time, you didn't do anything. You knew you deserved it.

You fucking slapped a girl.

Granted she slapped you to, but that didn't begin to justify you.

You felt like shit.

 _Hope you feel proud of yourself, Max._

Nathalie looked insane. Long bangs fell in front of her face, lips red and swollen from the previous making out session, clothes ruffled and that ugly red mark adorning her pale face. You reckoned you must have looked exactly the same, maybe more fucked up, with three long gashes on one side of your face and a busted lip.

You barely registered her saying something along the lines of _"you're bleeding"._

You barely registered saying _"I know"_ nodding.

She nodded too, clouded eyes with unreadable emotions.

The strangest thing happened then.

You both started laughing. Cackling like maniacs, hands on your knees, tears sliding down your faces, you laughed and laughed and laughed.

It wasn't a bad sound.

Her laugh, the real one, sounded melodic and sweet, a thing you had never heard before. Not even when she was with the Vortex Club.

And she had dimples.

You were a sucker for dimples.

Eventually the laughs died down until you were gasping for air to fill your lungs.

You risked a timid glance towards the Prescott, afraid you somehow would disrupt the tranquility between you two.

She was looking back.

Hazy eyes seemed sad and lonely. She stretched out a hand. You let her cup your cheek. She was acting completely out of character, almost tender and caring. But so were you.

Gently, her lips touched the bleeding scratches.

Your heart stopped.

Sadly, just as quick as it started, it ended. Nathalie backed off and before you could do or say anything she took off in the opposite direction, not even looking back once.

More confused than ever, you stood there, drilling holes in the space she occupied. Thinking how fucking strange your life was. About how you wished you had taken a picture of her just even once.

Thinking that you were definitely on separate ends of the spectrum. Black and white. Warm and cold.

How come you were so similar, then?

* * *

You tried not to think about the way she reacted so alarmed when you had been-

No, you wouldn't think about it.

You wouldn't think about either how you realized while you touched her.

Nathalie Prescott was more bones than flesh.

You wouldn't think about the scars you briefly saw on her wrists.

You wouldn't think about how you hadn't realized any of this until hours later.

* * *

Kyle asked you what had happened to your face.

You smiled, showing your teeth at the religious boy and said _"Oh, this? I was playing with a cat and the little thing attacked me. Crazy, huh?"_

Kyle, innocent and naïve Kyle believed you.

Wanda did not. But she didn't push too much.

Danny made fun of you every time he saw you, asking if the chick had been worth it.

He was the closest one to the truth.

* * *

You knew it wouldn't be the last time.

That was only the start.

Sitting on top of your bead, reading through physics books, you thought about the laws of attraction and how full of bullshit they were.

* * *

" _The soul attracts that which it secretly harbors, that which it loves, and also that which it fears."_

 _-James Allen_

* * *

 ** _A/N: HEYYY! Hope you enyojed and please leave reviews and comments so I can improve my writing 3 (tbh I think I messed up with this one but I blame the lack of inspiratin lately :/)  
_**


	2. Take Me to Church

_**Heyyy! I'm back :) Chapter two's up guys. But seriously, if you are easily disturbed please do not read this chapter, skip it. I'm warning you. If you're hardly faced by anything...well, I hope you enjoy this 3 Remember to review!**_

* * *

 _ **Take Me to Church**_

You met her on a cold winter night at the front of a cheap bar.

You were bitter, sad and felt utterly alone in the world.

Charlie and Richard were sharing saliva in the middle of the crowded dance floor.

You decided enough was enough, running away from the dancing couples, leaving the taste of cigarettes on your mouth and the empty apologies, the _'I'm sorry Max", "It wasn't supposed to happen", "I love Richard", "You're my best friend", "Don't say anything",_ behind.

Then you saw her.

Leaning against the brick wall, brown messy hair splayed out, hands shaking as she tried to light up a cigarette, red rimmed eyes staring at nothing, black tears of mascara sliding down rosy cheeks. And the most hauntingly beautiful blue eyes you had ever seen.

Staring at her face, unfamiliar and familiar at the same time, somehow you felt you could recognize the soft features from somewhere yet you had never seen her before.

You would have certainly remembered a face like that.

Throwing caution to the wind you talked to her, something you wouldn't have done if you had been in your right state of mind.

Then again, this wasn't a normal night.

 _"Tough night, huh?"_ you said, dorky smile on your lips.

 _"Fuck off, bozo"_ she said in return, saluting you with the middle finger.

Alright, you thought, fuck if this was what you wanted to happen but hey, destiny had always hated you. Why would it be any different now?

 _"You could lose the attitude"_ you found yourself saying before you could bite your tongue off. Hats off to you. Maybe you're looking for a fight, something to get your mind off certain things and if it weren't for that you're pretty sure you wouldn't be there wasting your time talking to a pretty face with a shitty personality. Or maybe you're self-destructive and love to play with fire.

Maybe you love danger more than what you'd like to admit.

 _"You could lose…"_ she drifted off, winced a little. She was drunk, you concluded _"Ugh... fucking freckles"_ the girl finished, throwing her cancer stick to the floor.

You didn't have time to react at all when she literally jumped at you, making you lose your balance, mouth crashing down on yours aggressively, nails scratching at your bare arms, teeth bumping together and some part of your brain whispered _'This is where I want to be'._

She pulled away, panting, pupils dilated. You gasped at the loss of contact, completely forgetting about the fact you both are laying on the ground, the same place where hundreds, no, thousands of people walk on and how covered in germs it must be.

She licked her bottom lip, slowly. Real slow. _"Well, I've got nothing else to do so why not kill time for a bit?"_ She laughed, soft, a tad histerical. It was a nice sound, your fogged mind thought. Leaning forward, giving you a nice view of cleavage _"Guess today's your lucky day, virgin boy"_

You didn't have the heart or the proper state of sanity to argue that statement. Mostly, because it's true.

You took her home with you.

Lights off, sweet lipstick on the tip of your tongue (mixed with the taste of tobacco and beer), boobs crushed against your chest, pulling on soft strands of hair, small moans, clothes on the floor.

Your skin was hot where hers was cold. Soft curves (you) and hard angles (her). Bites on your shoulders. Trails of purple bruises on the girl's neck. A small hand went down your underwear; long fingers went up her skirt. Groans and hisses in the middle of the night, she wrapped those long legs you had ogled earlier around your waist.

It was everything you never expected to happen. Never in a million years.

It was everything you would never regret, no matter what.

Through the kisses, you could feel her pain. You knew she could feel yours. Hers was greater though, and you wanted to know what afflicted her young soul. You burned at her mere touch, your soul burned and it hurt. Your heart ached for the girl in your arms, for the girl that clawed at the skin on your back; bit you enough to draw blood, for the girl who fell limp against you when it was over.

You felt like you knew her.

And she looked extremely…

She reminded you of someone. Of whom, you had no clue.

You fell asleep on the floor, curled up with the rudest person you had ever met.

And when you woke up alone in the morning, you were not surprised. After all, fairytales did not exist and you want to hit yourself so hard for what the hell were you thinking?

Nothing at all.

You just lost your virginity to a total and complete stranger, nevermind momentary strange feelings that took over your tipsy mind during the sex.

You should not feel disappointed.

But you were nonetheless.

And now you were also late for that important appointment and the principal reason you had gone to drink in the first place.

Thoughts about your one night stand slipped away from your head as you got ready and left your apartment in less than twenty minutes.

You arrived at the restaurant, heart at your throat, hands sweating and you saw them seating at a table at the back. Your parents. Your parents and the mysterious girl you were supposed to meet.

Great.

You clenched your jaw, making your way across and-

The world ended in a fraction of a second.

A week ago, mother and father told you their deepest secret, the one they had been keeping from you until you were old enough.

You had a twin sister.

They gave her up (adoption) because of financial issues and after years and years of searching they managed to contact her again. Your twin sister. They said: 'We set a date with her for a 'family reunion'" and you had stopped listening at that point.

And here she was.

Your elusive twin sister.

And you wanted to laugh.

Laugh so hard.

And you wanted to cry.

And you wanted to scream.

Blue met blue.

Your parents hadn't noticed you yet. But she had.

 _(How could she not?)_

They were too busy glaring in disapproval at the dark blemishes on the pale column of her throat.

She was too busy looking at you like a deer in the headlights and you were probably mirroring her expression too and it was so funny. So funny, indeed.

Except that it wasn't.

Flashes: drunken laughter, wandering hands, you being inside her, so warm and pliant and, oh, god.

You wanted to throw up.

Of course she was so fucking familiar.

Of course she reminded you of someone.

Of the face you see everyday reflected in the mirror.

Finally your mother saw you.

She smiled, innocent, excluded and unassuming of the scene unfolding right in front of her.

 _"Darling, Max"_ she gestured to _the girl,_ still smiling, eyes shining with joy _"Glad you could make it"_

You couldn't for the life of you speak. Hoping all this was a really cruel and disturbing dream.

Until your father exclaimed happily, destroying the prospect of it being an illusion _"Take a seat, son. Come meet your sister, Nathalie"_

The world truly ended in that moment.

Nathalie, your twin sister, your one night stand, your first time, started cackling insanely.

And you wondered at what point, things started spiraling out of control.

* * *

 _ **Even in that world, you had more opportunities of ending up with each other than in your real timeline.**_

 _ **You're like two sides of a coin, joined together but never meant to be.**_


	3. Denial of the Self

You look at her, dumbfounded, your heart caged in your stomach doing back flips. What? You must have gone deaf, there's no way on earth she would say something like that. Nevermind the fact that you're in an alternate universe and at this point, almost anything is possible. You blink, hoping and not for the first time, that this is just a nightmare, your psyche's form of protest against sleepless nights, against what had transpired a few hours back with Charlie and a part of you does not even know what to think anymore.

Except that this is pretty much real. You can tell from her reddening cheeks, the soft curve of her lips as she purses them, the long locks of hair that fell from her ponytail, the too blue eyes that avoid yours neurotically. It's blatantly obvious yet you can't process it. From the corner of your eye, you try to find an escape route despite knowing there aren't any, stood where you are in the conveniently empty parking lot of Blackwell Academy. Not one soul in sight, other than you and Nathalie Fucking Prescott who just confessed her undying feelings for you.

How much crazier could the world get?

This was not what you expected when you received a text from her a few hours ago. It said that it was an emergency and feeling drained and hopeless after that god awful exchange with Charlie (his empty eyes staring right through you when you refused to give him the needle, you ran away, overwhelmed and scared to death) you were too physically drained, done with everything and you made the grave mistake of agreeing to meet up with her, half hoping she would somehow have all the answers you needed or a way out of this version of hell. You were wrong.

 _"_ _Alright, I have to say that I wasn't planning on doing this" she started, talking to her sneakers "Liiiike ever but um, I thought since you and I have been friends for a while maybe you'd understand. What could possibly go wrong between friends right?"_

 _She laughed awkwardly; you didn't know what to say. You chose silence "Thing is Max, I don't want to ruin our friendship, I really like what we have and…" Nathalie paused, frozen in mid speech "Fuck!" the girl yelled suddenly, face turning cherry red" I'm not good at fucking feelings, Max. Look I fucking like you, got it? From the moment I first saw your ridiculously cute as fuck face I have liked you! Please go out me or whatever!_

 _Your jaw unhinged and you literally felt it hit the ground._

And now here you are. And there she is, blood rushing to her face so fast you fear she'll faint or something, looking very much like temptation and everything you should NOT want. In your head, a vicious voice screams a reminder of the things she has done back in your real timeline. The sneers, the insults, the threats, she shot Charlie, whatever she did to Kyle and most importantly, Richard. You try to remember you're supposed to be scared of her or hate her for all the wrongs she has committed. But then again, you have always had a weird gut wrenching understanding whenever you look at her, like at the Two Whales. You observed for a while, hunched over in her seat, her nimble fingers fiddling with the camera as she worried her bottom lip between her teeth and you thought that even though she still looked crazed, right there she seemed almost at peace with whatever demon was consuming her from the inside. The light gave her auburn hair a golden quality to it and without meaning to, you also noticed the heavy shadows under her eyes, a slightly red fading mark on her right cheek….

It was so easy to forget the enemy within Nathalie when she looked so human. So vulnerable and helpless. You couldn't help but think then what could have possibly made her become the irate creature she was and what if she had been spared of those circumstances that made her, well, her, and what would she be like? Looking at her now, you see the potential of what she could be, what she might have been. It hurts, you think vaguely.

This Nathalie is an innocent.

Still broken in a way, still rough around the edges but never like the Nathalie Prescott you know.

You realize, this world destroyed Charlie's life, made his life a purgatory. This world, too, saved _her_ , gave her redemption and a chance to start anew. You wonder what it will give to you, asides from suffering twice a broken heart. Once, by the rebel blue haired boy whose smile melts your insides; twice, by the girl you know you can't ever have, no matter how much you want to.

It's a stale mate.

You know what you must do.

Blue eyes peek shyly at you behind long bangs and you could have this goddammit. This could be yours. But the thing is, it would be unfair to the both of you. You don't belong to her. She doesn't belong to you. You're not her Max, the Max she knows, the one she's confessing to. She is not your girl either, the leering, menacing Nathalie who sank her nails into your hand and left a permanent mark on your skin, made you bleed.

It's not fair. Not when you fight back the moisture starting to cloud your sight, not as you say "I'm sorry" The girl takes a deep breath and the red of her cheeks slowly turns to a sickly pale. You already miss it "I don't feel the same way, you are a ve-very precious friend to me, Nat but I… I like someone else so-"

Whatever your excuse is, you never get to say it. Your words die in your throat because fat teardrops start spilling uncontrollably from Nathalie's haunted orbs and immediately want to do anything to make it stop, knowing well that you can't. Alternatively, you consider screaming at God or whoever's out there that thinks it's funny to keep messing you up. You're not sure you can continue doing this, survive the heartache if this goes on any longer.

So you decide to stop it.

Choking on a sob of your own, lift your shaking hand, up, up, up until you can feel time unfolding, rippling at your disposal and it's more a curse than a blessing, this gift of yours, getting to watch Nathalie's expression contorted in profound grief (the first time her heart's been ripped out and spat back at her) and then, nothing; moving backwards to the point where you only had to deal with the fact that your best friend was paralyzed from the neck down, tied to a chair for the rest of eternity.

Again, you are in his room. His eyes are closed, lips turned downwards in displeasure. You're sat next to him, full of emotion and on the verge of tears yourself. If you remember correctly, this is the part where he tells you to fucking go before you storm out of there near suicidal. Seeing him, with the image of the Prescott's fresh in your mind is a new kind of torture. You don't know who you're cheating anymore, who you're betraying in thinking about the other.

On wobbly knees, you stand, gather the small amounts of willpower you have left and walk towards the cabinet you know it'll contain what you're looking for. What you need. Really, what a stupid boy you had been, for not doing this sooner. It would have saved you a lot of pain. Maybe you're a masochist.

You reach inside and pull out the photo album, a pang of nostalgia hits you square in the chest looking at all those happy moments with Charlie captured in time. Like you did with Nathalie before him, you know what to do.

 _Grab the photo, Max._

You do. The tips of your fingers skim lightly over the joyous smiles on younger versions of yourselves, when you used to be naïve and stared at the outside world in barely repressed awe. You try to mirror the grin on the picture but find yourself unable to. That's okay. Focusing, zooming in on the picture, putting your heart and your almost everything on it, you apologize to Willa and Charlie and John. It was never your intention to bring back their family together to just destroy it again.

It was never your intention to break Nathalie's heart.


End file.
